


Not Dead

by Lunawritings



Series: Before the start [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of (faked) character deaths, Other, Previous Relationship, fem!lock, victor trevor is not an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:03:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunawritings/pseuds/Lunawritings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He says he still cares, that he wants to win back my trust.” Sherlock shook her head. Clearly not believing in the matter. “I've changed, he's changed. He thought I was dead as well the last few years. While truthfully our graves were next to each other and they were both equally empty”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Dead

**Author's Note:**

> So first things first. I usually and mostly RP and you have only one person to thank for this oneshot and that is bullterrierboy.tumblr.com I might make more of these in the future though, like what i think happened the first time Sherlock met Greg, things like that. Also this isn't a story as it is a recollection of events as told by Sherlock. I write a genderbent Sherlock here so this is a femlock, if that's not your jam then that's ok there are plenty other fics out there to tickle your pickle. Anyway friendly criticism is appreciated (but not obligatory) and i have no interest to see flamers at all. Clearly i do not own Sherlock or any of it's characters so this is just a little one shot because i felt like it, and this is in no way linked to the BBC or the Conon Doyle estate.

 

She had been staring ever since he left the flat. It was far to much for anyone to take in and while Sherlock prided herself in her mental capacities even she had trouble with this. She had sat back down in her chair where she hadn't moved or spoken since then. She truthfully had no idea who had come in, talked to her, or how much time had passed. She only noticed a gentle but firm hand shaking her a bit and a voice she knew all to well, a voice that had often called her back from her mind palace, asking her to rejoin him in the 'actual world of the living'. John.

 

“He's alive” was the first thing she spoke to her friend. And while John had accepted that Sherlock had returned from the dead he had no information of anyone else preforming a similar stunt. “Oh right obvious” came the slightly more clear though somewhat usual 'the world is so much slower then I am' sherlockian tone of voice “i never told you about him”. Him? Him who? In all the years that John had known Sherlock there had been four people Sherlock was on speaking terms with that were male, he himself. Lestrade, Mike Stamford and Sherlock's brother Mycroft. Sherlock stood up with a rather annoyed sigh.

 

“Victor Trevor, was a friend, my only friend for years. And he was more then that” Sherlock frowned briefly, more to herself then to John who looked more then a bit concerned for his friend. “We did not entirely meet in a conventional way.” she continued. “I was in my second year, he in his third. When his bull terrier took a liking to my ankle” she looked almost wistful at that. “He was in-furiously apologetic. Insisted on taking me to the hospital, regardless on how much I refused and his mongrel seemed rather sorry as well.” it was an odd thing to see Sherlock with a smile like that on his face. “I wasn't allowed to do much of anything but rest for a few days, and Victor. Being the person who he was, insisted on visiting daily. I tried my best to be as unpleasant as I possibly could, I had no interest in making friends of any kind and he was far to well liked and sociable at any rate. I deduced everything I could about him, if anything I think he found it amusing or intriguing. No matter what I did his visits became more frequent and often would take longer then either of us would anticipate. And they continued long after I regained my full mobility.”

 

She sighed. “I rather unexpectedly found myself having a friend. Over the years we grew closer. Much closer, I realised I was in love with him about a year later. Something I didn't admit until much later but non the less we got involved.” she sighed with a bit of a frown then. “Victor graduated one year before I did. We were a couple then, I knew he loved me I like to think he knew I wholly returned his feelings.” she never really had been sure, and saying it had been hard for her. Certainly saying it to his face when he was there to hear it, she had said it to him often enough when he was asleep or when he was out of earshot. “He started to work for MI6. I know it was Mycroft's doing I always hated him for that. I knew Mycroft wanted me in the fold as well, I think he disliked the idea of someone with the same name as him running around ruining his reputation. He still does. And while I never agreed to work for him, Victor did. I hated the very idea of it.” She smiled somewhat bitterly and drew her knees up to her chest. Feeling far to exposed as it was. “I never told Victor of course. He loved his job, he was ridiculously good at it. Set to make a glittering career” which in a way he probably had. A nagging mostly angry voice inside her head told her.

 

“He died when I was twenty three. Car crash” she spoked. It still hurt thinking about it. “I refused to believe it. It seemed entirely to mundane at the time, to unexpected.” she spoked. “I searched everywhere, reviewed every little fact about the case. But I couldn't find anything, and I knew, or I believed, that no one would be good enough to outwit me in such a way. He was the only person I cared about, he was my only friend. He was the only one I ever loved like that. And he died in something as ridiculous as a car crash.” She got angry as she repeated the words. Standing up to go pacing. Not saying anything for a few moments. “They buried him of course. I didn't attend the funeral. I couldn't. They all assumed it was some sort of proof that they had been right all along, that I didn't feel anything for him.” Sherlock was mocking them now, the anger clear on her face and in her voice. It had irked her then it still irked her there, those idiots didn't know anything about her.

 

“I didn't take his death well. I couldn't cope and I decided that feeling nothing would be better then feeling like that” she was standing still now before slowly sitting down again. “It was about a year and a half later that I met Lestrade, you know what state I was in by then.” Refusing to look at John. Who had been incredibly quiet during the entire display. John knew better then most, better then anyone, that Sherlock was capable of feeling emotions. That she merely had a different way of dealing with things then most people did. And while he had often wondered why he knew he now had at least one more piece of the puzzle. “And he's not dead?” John stated. Or asked. “No. He was here about an hour ago.” Sherlock looked away from John. “Claims he's sorry” she stated. Knowing it had to sound familiar to John's ears even if to her the situation was different. She had had no one when Victor died, sure John had lost her. And she did feel sorry for putting him through that pain, but he had had others to count on. And Victor had stayed dead for over a decade, Sherlock had stayed dead for a bit over two years.

 

“He says he still cares, that he wants to win back my trust.” Sherlock shook her head. Clearly not believing in the matter. “I've changed, he's changed. He thought I was dead as well the last few years. While truthfully our graves were next to each other and they were both equally empty” She would trust Victor with her life. Why wouldn't she, she still loved him, she couldn't help herself for wanting him back in her life in whatever way he could be there. But she doubted that could trust him again as she once had, she couldn't trust anyone like that any more. Or so she believed, perhaps feared was the better word. Though Sherlock would never admit to such a thing.

 

 "But he's back now. I can't not have him in my life, i doubt he'll want to come along on cases though. He says he's retired anyway" she spoke. Looking back to her friend. "Jesus Sherlock" spoke John, noticing that Sherlock was no longer recollecting the past or what had happened moments ago but that she was back amongst the concious. "I don't think the cases are the most important thing right now. How are you feeling?" he asked her. To which she raised an eyebrow. "I suppose rather similar to how you were feeling a few days ago." she stated a little grin on her face. It worked, the two friends were laughing again. Her story did not get mentioned again. And when much later John actually met Victor he found he enjoyed the man. Victor was clearly Sherlock's opposite, but for some reason it worked. And given Sherlock's self destructive tendencies, the fact that there was one more person looking out for his best friend. Settled the nerves of the Doctor greatly. 

 


End file.
